philosophy at age eight

“If you cannot control your peanut butter, you cannot expect to control your life.”
~ Judah-ism

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

rout of the cat

To continue chronicling the beautiful-and-sometimes-startling relationship between Koomyn the cat and Bijou the guinea pig, I am providing for your pleasure a sequence of pictures that I took some 5 or 6 years ago, right after we moved to CA.  We had just driven nearly two full days south from WA state to Los Angeles, CA, bringing one very dazed and confused cat and one supremely indifferent guinea pig into the home of Jenni, my sister-in-law.  Koomyn had kept up a low, moaning mrrow the first day in the car, but gave into miserable silence by the second. As soon as we arrived, we pulled both free of their travel cages to eat and wander around Jenni's apartment. 

A little grass, a little newspaper, a little freedom... just gotta keep an eye on the black little puff-ball nosing around

Bijou waddles right up to Koomyn, with the dead-to-straight stare.  I could see Koomyn was a little off his game, by his ears and twitching tail.
Woah, Bijou goosed Koomyn! They both jumped a good foot in the air.  (Anyone who has had a guinea pig knows that they can jump like champions when started.)  Seriously disturbed now, Koomyn keeps a strict eye on the waddling puff-ball of territorial mischief.
Hey, now... When he started circling around, I realized the puff-ball is simply fucking with the cat!
Suddenly, it's too much for a cat to take.  Seriously, the indignity.
For a moment, puff-ball quivers with triumphant happiness in his cave
Until he gets lonely, and ventures out to find adventure once more... Where, oh where, did that beautiful black cat go?  Oh?!  Do I see...?
Is that... a tail, mayhap...?
YES! That's a tail! Attached to eyes with your death shining within them...!

I was laughing too hard to capture Bijou as he waddled up to the fuming, cowering Koomyn, and goosed him once more.  But in a flash, the poor baby was sitting demurely at my feet, peering up at me with pleading eyes (which my flash promptly closed.)

At that point, cuddles were definitely in order for my traumatized little kitty. Little did he know that the territorial little puff-ball now considered Koomyn part of his territory, and--indeed, in fact--Koomyn's nipples, even. But that's a different story.

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